Darksday Knight
by Elladie
Summary: A fantasy adventure set in Vana'diel and based on the MMO Final Fantasy XI. What happens after Nashmeira finally secures the throne and the future of Aht Urghan? Who can she count on as friends?
1. Chapter 1

**ONE**

Winters in Konschtat were cold. A damp, foggy, cold that burrowed marrow-deep into bones and made the thought of going outside again almost intolerable. Much better to curl up by the fire and dream of past days. But logs needed chopping. Animals needed feeding. And putting it off meant finishing in the half-dark, when it was better and safer to be back indoors. Elanie sighed, pushed back her stool, and picked up her sheepskin jacket.

" The fence up at Big Top needs checking," Caeris said.

Elanie nodded. " I know. I'll go up there with Diron tomorrow."

" He can mend a fence himself."

" Of course he can. But it's safer if we both go. I saw a couple of goblins up there last Darksday. This cold weather brings them in too close to the farm."

Kae tugged at the hem of her jacket. " I wants to see goblins, Auntie Ela."

" Well, now," she replied, picking him up and snuggling him. He was nearly four, but he still smelled of sweet, soft, baby smells. " Here's a thing, my lovely. Some goblins are not so bad but . . ."

Caeris snorted, but Elanie took notice. Despite being barely more than a toddler, Kae already displayed a tendency to run off and look for trouble whenever he got the chance. Too much like his aunt probably. She wanted to make sure he knew that going in search of monsters by himself wasn't a good idea.

" There's a goblin in Bastok, for example," she continued. " Whose name is Shinstix. He has a shop that sells wooden horses. Horses just about the right size for a young man of your great height to gallop around on."

" I AM big, aren't I, Auntie Ela?"

" Yes, you are," she said. " But the goblins that sneak up to High Top field won't care how big you are. They aren't nice goblins, not like Shinstix. The bigger you are, the better dinner they think you'll make. So I will give you a promise. If you're a good boy for the whole of winter – the whole of winter, mind – I'll take you to Bastok come spring and buy you a wooden horse from Shinstix."

Kae widened his eyes. " Really?"

" Yes."

" Winter is very long, though, isn't it?"

" It is," she agreed.

" I will try," he said, so seriously she had to fight not to smile.

" That means not going looking for any bad goblins in the meantime," she pointed out.

" I know. I'm not silly. But you would eat the bad goblins, Auntie Ela. They wouldn't eat you. You're a 'venturer, Diron says so. You would kick their bony . . ."

" Kae!" exclaimed his mother. " I'll wash your mouth out with soap, child."

" I didn't say it," he protested.

" Only because I interrupted you, you naughty rabbit."

" Peace," Elanie said. " And I'm not an adventurer any more, Kae. So let's stay away from the bad goblins. Okay?"

Elanie had given up what Caeris called her vagabond days several months ago. Her brother-in-law, Kae's father, had picked up some sickness at the spring fair in Selbina. Stubbornly he'd tried to shrug it off instead of seeking out a healer. By the time she heard of his illness and made it back to Bastok, he was beyond even her magic. All she could do was ease his pain with poppy juice and hold his hand as he passed. Caeris never blamed her for not getting there sooner, but she blamed herself. Out on the road it could be weeks before she heard any news from home. She didn't feel she could leave them again to fend for themselves; she'd always had a tendency to mother Caeris, and her sister clung to her quite desperately in the first weeks of widowhood.

Elanie wasn't sure when she made the decision to stay permanently. She wasn't even sure she ever did. She certainly didn't make a grand announcement, hang up her daggers, sell all her gear. She still had it in a small chest under the bed. But she acknowledged that she was unlikely ever to go adventuring again, unless Caeris remarried. Her sister didn't truly need her there anymore; she was more than capable of running the farm, and they'd hired trustworthy men to help. But whenever the subject came up, Caeris panicked and made her promise to stay.

Sometimes an old friend from the wandering days would pass through Bastok and fetch up at the farm; that always made Caeris particularly agitated. So when they asked Ela to go on a jaunt through Palborough Mines, or some such, she always laughed and said 'no chance!' Last she heard, they'd found some other white mage to replace her. She stayed out in the barn that night, chopping wood until her eyes wouldn't stay open any longer and her whole body ached. She was determined she wouldn't cry herself to sleep. Tears wouldn't change anything. They certainly wouldn't rewind the fight against Promathia – was that really so many months ago? – and miraculously bring Iggy back to life. She'd carried on after he died; they all did. But somehow her heart wasn't in it any more. It was as if Ignisrostrum had been the glue that bound them all together. Cerenth did his best to motivate them, but there'd been gaping cracks for a long time before she returned to the farm in Konschtat.

Elanie sighed, ruffled Kae's hair, and put him back down on the floor.

" Go and play with your sister, lovely," she said. " I have to go finish feeding the beasts."

He scowled. " But Mailin is boring. All she does is read."

" You could stand to spend more time at your books, young man," his mother told him.

Kae's scowl deepened. Elanie could tell he was searching through the other profanities he'd learned from Diron for something suitably scathing to say. She made a hasty exit before he found it: she didn't want to be the one called on to hold him still while Caeris made good her threat about the soap.

Fog enveloped her as soon as she stepped out of the door. It wasn't thick - she could still see across the yard – but it was cold and damp, and it made her hunch her shoulders and pull her sheepskin closer. Her footsteps sounded oddly muffled as she crossed the cobbles, as if she had wool for boots. There was no point calling for Diron, the sound wouldn't carry through the fog. Besides, he'd already be in the barn, putting up the feeds. She'd been longer than she intended in the kitchen. And no doubt Griggory was already chopping the wood they'd hauled yesterday, although she couldn't hear the swing of his axe. Starl would be in the tiny hut they used as a farm office, pouring over his accounts.

An outsider might think Starl won the game when they handed out jobs, especially at that time of year. He was inside, more or less, and he got to sit down all day. But Elanie had taken her turn at the books sometimes, and she knew that heaving dirty straw with a pitchfork was infinitely preferable to crouching in the cold, trying to make sense of the columns of figures. Starl had chilblains and headaches; whenever she went in there, he'd be blowing on his fingers to warm them up or stomping round to get some circulation back in his feet. That year they'd made a profit for the first time since Elanie's brother-in-law died, mainly thanks to Starl's forward planning. In the spring she planned to use some of it to build a proper chimney in the office so that he could have a fire.

Starl had an eye for her sister, Ela knew. Actually all three of them did, if only because Caeris came dowered with the farm. Elanie was the elder, but she'd foregone any claim on the property when she chose a vagabond life. Their father had married Caeris off to his farm manager after Ela left; Caeris hadn't been given much choice in the matter, but the match turned out a happy one, and she'd grieved honestly when her husband died.

As far as Ela could make out, remarrying never occurred to Caeris, despite the fact that she was an attractive woman still and young enough to bear more children. Her red-gold hair was long, and it had glints of fire in it where it caught the light. Her figure curved more than adequately in all the right places. Ela had seen Starl watching Caeris sometimes and reckoned he wanted the woman at least as much as he wanted the land. But Caeris was oblivious. Ela had dropped a few hints sometimes, when they lingered over supper, yet all she got back were puzzled eyes, as if Caeris had forgotten men had other purposes than merely keeping accounts and chopping wood.

For herself, Ela hadn't forgotten anything. But her life was much more ruled by convention now. Out on the roads, marriage was more or less unheard of. Men and women both took their pleasure where they wanted. There was plenty of bawdy gossip, but no one thought less of anyone because of it; loyalty, courage and the swing of the sword were what mattered out there. If a man – or woman – stood shoulder to shoulder with you and watched your back, it didn't matter how many whores they'd tumbled the night before. She missed those free and easy ways as much as she missed everything else, but she had no choice. If she didn't conform, the talk would taint Caeris and the children as much as it tainted her. If she'd been a man, she might have gotten away with it. As it was, on the nights her body burned, she had to grit her teeth and endure. Or ease herself, which helped momentarily, but left her lonely and sad for days afterwards.

Elanie sighed again and pushed open the barn door. Feeling sorry for herself accomplished nothing so she tried to avoid it.

By mid-afternoon they'd done with the animals and the log pile. Three of them were sweeping up the yard when Kae erupted out of the kitchen door, laughing. His sister, Mailin, four years older, came barrelling after him, her face red and cross.

Ela grabbed her nephew out of instinct. If there was trouble, he was generally the root and cause of it. He wriggled like a trapped bastore bream and squealed for her to let him go, but she kept hold.

" What have you done, imp?" she demanded.

Mailin puffed up to us. " He took my book, Auntie Ela."

Elanie removed the book from his grasp. He looked mutinous, but he didn't fight.

" Books are expensive, Kae," she said. " And it's mean to tease your sister."

" But she's so boring. All she does is read."

Ela couldn't deny that. Mailin spent her days, and a lot of her nights too, pouring over anything that had writing on it. Caeris often berated her daughter for the amount of candles she used. In contrast, Kae was only interested in something if it involved running, jumping and, preferably, hitting stuff with sticks. Sometimes Ela wished she could extract small bits of both and switch them over, making Mailin less bookish and Kae less wild.

" Okay," she said. " Listen to me, both of you. Item One. Kae, you promised me you'd try and be good for the whole of winter. Teasing your sister is not being good."

His bottom lip quivered. " But I did try."

" Then you must learn to try harder. Item Two. Mailin, spending all your time reading isn't good for you. You need fresh air and exercise."

Mailin looked down at her feet. " But it's so cold out here, Aunt Ela."

" I know, sweetie. So starting tomorrow you'll both come and help me on the farm for an hour. That will keep you warm. As for now, I'll keep the book. You can both go back inside and fetch your coats, and we'll take a short walk with Diron to check on the fences. You two can carry the torches for us."

" But . . ." Mailin said.

" No buts."

Elanie planned to walk down the path to the gates; even in the fog they were unlikely to run into trouble along the path. It was more to distract the children than anything else. She sent them back inside to fetch warmer gear. Kae ran happily, excited about the idea of a brief adventure. Mailin dragged her feet, but she did as she was told. They'd both returned, and Ela was checking buttons and gloves and scarves, when they all heard something that made them stop and turn towards the arch into the yard.

" Riders," Diron said.

Elanie gave Mailin a little push. " Back into the house. Take your brother. Kae, go. NOW." She raised her voice even higher. " Starl, Griggory, here. We have visitors."

She touched her fingers to the twin daggers she always wore. She never went anywhere without them, even now, although she'd only needed them a handful of times since she left the roads. She had no particular reason to suspect their unknown guests meant trouble, but it was better to be cautious. It was winter, and late in the day; only idiots or villains would come calling at this hour.

They clattered into the yard. Two of them. They rode black birds, well fed and sleek, with eastern saddles and harnesses. Ela heard Griggory behind her mutter something. He had his axe in hand. Diron leant on his pitchfork. She knew neither would hesitate to use the tools as weapons if necessary.

" Peace," she said, stepping forward. She'd pushed her sheepskin jacket back so that it wouldn't hamper her if she needed to draw the daggers. But she didn't think the men meant trouble, although she didn't recognise either of them. They had decent gear, and their birds looked expensive, not nags from a hire stable. No brigands or outlaws then.

" Peace," one of them replied. " We seek Coldlaw Farm." He spoke with a heavy accent, but she'd heard it often enough in the past to recognise it, and her heart beat a little faster. She relaxed her stance a touch. If she wasn't mistaken, they came with news, not trouble.

" Then you've found it," she said. " This is Coldlaw Farm. And you are far from home, gentlemen."

They both bowed, with that easy elvaan assurance Elanie hadn't seen in a while. Not many elvaan came to Bastok, and they certainly never ventured as far as the farm, except by accident. And, unless she was mistaken, this pair had travelled much further than the elvaan city of San D'Oria. They didn't wear any livery, but the first had spoken with an eastern accent. Ela would happily bet they'd travelled from Aht Urghan. But why? What business did they have at Coldlaw Farm?

" I feel certain you didn't come so far merely to admire the carvings on our gate posts," she said.

The first one smiled. They both wore swords, curved like scimitars, but the rest of their gear was plain and anonymous. Whatever they were, they travelled in some secrecy. The curved swords made her think, a touch hysterically, that they must be Immortals, members of the elite Imperial Guard. But what business would two Immortals have on a small farm in Konschtat Highlands? And besides, they weren't veiled; as far as she knew, the Immortals never removed their veils. But her heartbeat had speeded up again despite herself. Just the sight of them was enough to make her remember the woman she had been, once upon a time.

" We seek Elanie Byrne," the first said.

Diron stopped leaning on his pitchfork.

" You've found her," he said. " What's your business?"

The stranger looked at Ela. " Elanie Byrne?"

" Yes," she managed to say, past the constriction in her throat.

The man reached down to his belt, and both Griggory and Diron hefted up axe and pitchfork. He glanced at them but didn't falter, pulling a letter from the pouch at his waist. He held it out, looking at Ela. Diron looked at Ela too, and she nodded. Griggory stepped forward and took the letter, passing it over. When she took it, she discovered her fingers were trembling. She wasn't sure if it was fear or excitement. The clamor of her old life sounded so loud in her ears she could barely think straight.

Like the messengers, the seal on the letter was anonymous. No clues there. She took a deep breath and broke it open.

Inside there was a single sheet.

Five words written on it.

" Come," it said. " I need you. Aphmau."

Elanie lowered the page, hoping no one noticed how much her hand shook.

" Who gave you this?" she asked.

The man looked at her. " The one who wrote it. There is a token with it, Lady. So you know there is no trick."

She held out her other hand, and he dropped a small coin into it. She didn't even need to look at it to know what it was, but she checked anyway. It had once been part of a necklace, an Ephramadian talisman, but someone had removed the chain. All that remained was the token, a round metal carving like a coin, bearing the worn symbol of an armoured rider on a horse.

Elanie closed her eyes and took a deep breath. If her current life swirled and span any faster around her feet, it would shatter into pieces, and she'd fall into the void beneath. More than that, she ached to fall. Voices from her past called to her like sirens.

The name Aphmau was common enough throughout the Empire. It meant Little Flower, or so she'd heard, and it was the pet name for countless girl children. If this message had fallen into other hands by mistake, there was no reason for anyone to suspect its true origin. Even the token was just an old, meaningless carving to most people. The ghosts of the Ephramadians carried hundreds of them. The writer had gone to a lot of trouble to ensure that the message came in secret and meant nothing, except to its proper recipient.

Elanie.

She shook her head. What in Altana's name was Nashmeira up to now?

Yes, Aphmau was a common name in the Empire. But there was one Aphmau Elanie knew well. And this particular Aphmau viewed the Ephramadians and their artifacts with a very potent reverence. Most people knew her by a different name. And they had a tendency to fall to the ground as she passed, in case they sullied her by looking on her face. Nashmeira. Empress of Aht Urghan. Who had loved and lost an ancient Ephramadian ghost in the battle to protect her Empire.

Elanie could think of only a few reasons for Nashmeira to have need of her, a secret need at that, and none of them were good. Most of them involved Luzaf, Nashmeira's ghostly lost love. If Ela ignored the message . . . ah, by Odin's nine hells, no way could she ignore the message. Nashmeira was brave and good and a fine empress. And she was ten years wiser than she'd been when they first met. But Ela knew none of those things would stop the Empress haring off on some idiotic quest, especially if it had something to do with Luzaf.

She looked at the messenger. " The answer is yes."

He bowed, and a small smile broke his quiet calm. " Thank you, Lady."

" I'll need a little time though. A few days."

" I understand."

" Travel safe," she told him.

They turned their birds and rode back out of the yard. Ela looked at Starl, and Griggory, and Diron, and she tried to smile. What on earth did she think she was doing? Caeris would go crazy. And Ela couldn't even give her a proper explanation. Until she knew what Nashmeira was up to, the less people who knew about her involvement in this the better.

The only ones she dared trust were the ones who'd fought beside her to save Nashmeira ten years ago. She just had to hope that they'd forgiven her by now for walking out on them to become a farmer.


	2. Chapter 2

**TWO**

" Be off with you," the voice scolded, sliding back the bolts on the solid oaken door. " I've told you, he's away. If you don't stop pestering, I'll . . . Oh! Master Cerenth! It's yourself."

Cerenth made a show of checking his hands and his feet individually. " I do believe it is, yes. Are you going to let me, Vanna? Or are you planning on using that staff you're wielding so expertly to crack me across the forehead?"

His housekeeper frowned at the staff in her hands, as if she couldn't recall how it had gotten there. Then she shook her head and put it back in the rack by the door. " Oh, I am sorry. What a welcome for you. Come in, come in. We wasn't expecting you back quite so soon, sir."

He swallowed a smile. No matter how long he was away - and it was often for weeks at a time - Vanna always seemed shocked when he came home. He reckoned she considered the house mostly hers; his return simply put her to the inconvenience of airing his room, preparing his meals, and sorting through his dirty laundry. Unusually for an adventurer, he owned that house and several others in Bastok. He was all in favour of fun and wild living, but he'd always seen the vagabond life, at least in part, as a means to an end. It allowed him to utilise his talents for black magic and summoning to earn substantial amounts of cash. Once that cash started to mount up, he'd built on it by investing in property. He could have lived quite comfortably on his rents these days, and occasionally he did think of retiring. But it was only ever a thought. They'd had their share of problems since Iggy had been killed. Only to be expected really. But Cerenth was determined to keep the group together. He reckoned enough determined pestering should do the trick. Maybe he should hire a mount while he was home and ride up to Konschtat, pester Elanie some. He didn't think she'd be happy staying a farm hick for the rest of her life.

This particular property stood in a quiet back street in Bastok's residential quarter. The front door opened onto a small lane that, if he followed its length, led to the Markets. The back door from the cellar kitchen was close to the port bridge. Vanna grumbled sometimes about the noise from the air-ships, but Cerenth merely smiled and nodded. He liked to be able to make a swift exit sometimes. Especially if he didn't care for the look of the face at the front door.

" It's hardly soon," he told Vanna now, hanging up his cloak next to the rack of staves and clubs. They were more walking sticks than weapons; he always carried the useful ones with him, whatever business he happened to be engaged on. " I've been away three months."

Vanna frowned again. " Really? My, I must be getting old. Time just seems to fly past."

" Sounds as though it's just as well I'm back."

She bridled a little. "Not that old. I haven't lost my touch with a cream puff, if that's what's worrying you."

" I meant the staff, Vanna," he explained, holding back a sigh. " The pestering? Be off or I'll hit you with this big stick?"

" Big stick? Ohhhh! You mean the walking stick?"

He managed to contain another sigh. He hadn't yet worked out if Vanna practised deliberate vagueness or if she was really as forgetful as she made out. " Has there been trouble?"

" Oh no, sir. No trouble. Just some woman looking for you."

At least that made a change from brutes and bruisers. Or someone from President Karst's office, with yet more work for him that couldn't possibly wait. He was planning on avoiding any more assignments until the weather improved; they'd just spent six weeks staking out an orc encampment in Jugner Forest, and he was thoroughly tired of meagre campfires, damp blankets, and frozen toes.

" I'll call Tam to take your bags upstairs, sir." she said.

" The woman, Vanna?" he reminded her.

" What woman?"

He was starting to remember why he never actually stayed that long at home. " The one looking for me?"

" Oh, her. No better than she should be, I reckon."

" Did she say what she wanted?"

" She was looking for you, sir."

" Yes. I rather gathered that."

" I told her you weren't here."

Perhaps it was time he looked around for a new housekeeper. Vanna could stay on and dust his books or something. " Did she give you a name?"

Her face wrinkled as she thought hard. " Nellie or something, I think."

" Elanie?"

" Yes! That's it! How clever of you, Master Cerenth."

This time he couldn't hold back the sigh. " Vanna, you know Elanie. She's been here many times. Why didn't you let her in and find out what she wanted?"

" I'm sure I don't know her," the woman replied indignantly. " She looked like a farm-hand. And I swear she smelled of pig!"

He shook his head. " That's because she's been helping run her sister's farm up at Konschtat. It doesn't make her any less my friend."

Vanna had some curious ideas about the folk it was suitable for him to associate with. He was well aware she'd been spreading rumours round the marketplace for years now, about his fabulous wealth, noble lineage, and foreign origins. She seemed to think it increased her own status. He didn't contradict any of her stories; it suited him to seem mysterious and exotic. For some reason, most of those who sought out his services seemed willing to pay more when they thought he was an exiled scholar-prince from the fabled southern deserts.

" Did Elanie say where I could find her?" he asked.

The housekeeper sniffed. " Said she was staying at the Steaming Sheep."

Cerenth picked his cloak back up again. " Thank you."

Vanna stared. " You're not going off again straight away?"

Frankly he already felt tempted to pick up a clean set of gear and take the next air-ship back to Jeuno. " Just to the Steaming Sheep. I'll get something to eat there."

" But their food is shocking. Borus says they put rat meat in their Galkan sausage."

" I've been eating camp rations for over a month, Vanna. Rat meat sounds pretty tasty."

" Master Cerenth!"

" It was a joke, Vanna," he replied wearily. " Have Tam take my bags upstairs, but make sure he doesn't try to unpack them. I don't want to come back and find he's inadvertently summoned Diabolos or something."

There'd been an incident with Ifrit once; he'd been lucky not to find the entire building burned down on his return. Still, it had taught his staff not to pry into any of his belongings. He'd sent the boy, Aerion – the one who'd accidentally summoned Ifrit - to be properly trained. It was highly unusual for a novice to be able to call a prime avatar, especially one bound to another summoner. And he didn't like to remember the fight he'd had to dismiss Ifrit again. The avatar had been royally pissed and extremely unwilling to obey him.

Vanna continued to protest as he re-fastened his cloak, but Cerenth took little notice, although he murmured the odd soothing comment. Irritating though she was, she had his best interests at heart. And her cream puffs truly had no equal. When he eventually managed to leave the house and make his way towards Port Bastok, he was chuckling softly over her recalcitrance. It was early evening already, dark and cold, and there were few people around. Torches lit all but the darkest corners. He nodded to the guards on duty at the gate as he drew level with them.

Perhaps he should try to find out how Aerion was getting on. Maybe the lad would be interested in joining them. Not that they needed another summoner. What they needed was a healer. They'd tried out several since Ela left, but none had proved successful. More their fault than the healers' of course. He didn't mind admitting it. Most of them had stomped off, muttering about arrogance. He was hurrying now to reach the Steaming Sheep half in the hope that Elanie had decided to give up the farming nonsense and return to adventuring.

When he stepped through the tavern door, the sudden light and noise made him blink. Apparently there were plenty of travellers around despite the foul weather. His eyes adjusted quickly to the smoky atmosphere, and he scanned the gathered company. He saw Elanie immediately. She sat alone at a table close to the stairs, mopping up the last of her meal with chunks of bread, eyes fixed on some book.

Her hair needed cutting. She'd braided it and bundled it up under a hat, but it was still there, still red, still liable to cause passing strangers to stop and take a second look. Not many humes had hair that red; not ginger but the colour of freshly spilled blood. Gilder often teased her that her mother must have been indiscreet with a passing Elvaan nine months before she was born. Such comments generally ended up with Gil on the floor, one of Ela's daggers at his throat, until he begged mercy and apologised.

She had darker skin than the hair seemed to warrant. And unexpectedly grey eyes. It always seemed to Cerenth that some confused goddess had jumbled her up with someone else and handed out the wrong features entirely. But she was striking, just the same. Perhaps not beautiful, not in any conventional sense. But not a woman a man might easily forget. Although her skill with her daggers made most keep their distance.

He caught the barmaid's eye and ordered two glasses of beer, then made his way over to Ela's table. As he kicked out the chair to sit down, he saw her hands go to those famous daggers. But when she realised it was him, she relaxed.

" Well, well," she said. " If it's not a dark and mysterious stranger from the southern jungle."

Cerenth grinned. " Desert. Get it right. Dark and mysterious stranger from the southern desert."

" Vanna passed the message on then? I wasn't sure she would."

" After much interrogation."

He nodded to the barmaid as she put their beer down on the table and flipped her a couple of coins. The girl barely paused as she pocketed them, sashaying off again without a word.

" I see the service here is as polished and attentive as ever," he said.

" You spend too much time in palaces," Ela retorted. " It's a tavern. At least the beds are clean, and the food is hot."

" And they aren't up at the farm?"

" Ah," she replied. " That's my Afro. Straight to the point."

" Curiosity is my defining characteristic," he said, taking a long swallow of his beer. They called him Afro because of his hair, which was thick and wiry and restrained by a myriad of tiny, cornstalk plaits.

" Have you been to Aht Urghan lately?" she asked.

He blinked at the abrupt question. " Not since the summer. Why?"

" I got a message three days ago. Well, a summons really."

He waited, but she didn't volunteer any more information. " From Aht Urghan?"

" Yes."

" What did it say?"

" I need you."

" That's all?"

" Yes."

He waited again, and again she didn't elaborate.

" So what are you going to do?" he asked. Maybe her answer would tell him more.

She shrugged. " Go to Aht Urghan, I guess."

In which case the message had to be from Nashmeira. He couldn't think of anyone else in Aht Urghan that Ela would drop everything for.

" I need you, huh?" he said. " Sounds like trouble."

" Indeed."

" Did you know they're pestering Nashmeira to find a husband?"

She put down her beer. " Oh dear."

" She needs an heir."

" She's only eighteen," Ela snapped back. " Merciful Altana. Who is pestering, exactly?"

" Her advisers. And eighteen is practically decrepit, out east. They marry their women off pretty young out there."

" If they try and bully Nashmeira, they're in for a nasty shock."

" So the message WAS from the Empress?"

She raised her eyebrows at him. " I don't know. It wasn't signed Nashmeira."

" But you suspect it was her, just the same?"

" Maybe."

" Nellie, do you really want to get dragged into some eastern political furore?"

" Don't call me Nellie," she replied crossly, side-stepping the question. She'd never liked that nickname; Soap spammed it just to annoy her. But Cerenth reckoned she was using it now to avoid answering.

He drained the last of his beer. It had been warm and a little flat but still good; he hadn't tasted beer for several weeks. " So what do you want me to do? Gather the rest of the guys together?"

She shrugged again. " Up to you. No reason for any of you to get involved. Unless you want to. I just needed someone to know where I was headed in case . . . well, in case. And you were the easiest to track down."

" Cheers," he said, even though all the beer was gone. He pulled a dejected face at her. " I love you too."

" Don't pout at me, Afro."

He ignored that. " Gil should be back in Windy by now. I'll rope him in. Abs and Soap are in Sandy, I presume. Gather together in Jeuno by next Iceday?."

" I hadn't planned to go to Jeuno," she said. " I was going to head off and catch the ship from Mhaura as soon as I'd gathered some stuff together."

" Isn't your gear all stored in Jeuno?"

" The good stuff, yeah. But I was kind of hoping I wouldn't need it."

" You get a cryptic message from Aht Urghan, hot-bed of intrigue and forefront of the struggle against the beastmen. And you're kind of hoping you won't need your gear?"

She laughed. " Okay, okay. I take your point. Jeuno it is. But I'm sneaking in and out. Once this job is done, I'm going back to the farm. I don't want anyone getting the wrong idea and trying to fling 'important missions' in my direction." She drew quotation marks in the air as she spoke, mocking herself. She'd always been given to that, Cerenth remembered. Doubting her own value to their group. But if anything showed how significant her contribution had been, it was the procession of shitty white mages they'd had to put up with since she left. If only because Ela was the only healer in Vana'diel prepared to put up with them.

" Sneak away if you must," he replied, focusing on the matter in hand. He'd worry about persuading her not to go back to farming later. " But you should think about talking to Wolfgang too, while you're in Jeuno."

" No chance."

" He'll know the political situation in the east much more accurately. He has links to the Tenshodo after all."

" Yeah, and he always looks at me like I was personally responsible for Duke Kam'lanaut's death," she retorted.

When he's not got his hand down the front of your dress, Cerenth thought wryly. That his white mage and the de-facto ruler of Jeuno were, occasionally, lovers, was something Elanie at least had tried to keep a secret. She'd mostly succeeded too. He'd only found out because poking his nose into matters that weren't his business was, more or less, his raison d'etre.

" You WERE personally responsible for the Arch-Duke's death," he replied.

" Abs killed him, not me."

" And who kept Abs alive during the fight?"

" Detail, detail," she said, laughing. " I'd really rather not see Wolfgang."

" Fine. Whatever. I'll talk to him then. Don't worry," he added when she opened her mouth, to protest probably. " I won't mention your involvement. I just think we should know everything pertinent before we go crashing in."

" I thought crashing in was our best thing," she replied.

He laughed. " True. But, since I'm the brains of the group, I insist on reconnaissance."

" Altana help us," she sighed. " If you're the brains of the group . . ."

" Thanks for the vote of confidence."

" You're welcome," she said.

He made sure he was well out of range of her daggers before he responded.

" It's good to have you back, Nellie," he said. Emphasising the 'Nellie'.

" It's a fine state of affairs," he muttered as he left the inn, the space between his shoulder-blades itching. " When you're far more worried about the white mage at your back than you are about the great big dragon in front of you."


	3. Chapter 3

**THREE**

Gilder checked the temperature of the forge before he set the raw blade in amongst the coals. He'd been working metal since he was six, and he'd learned the hard way that only meticulous attention to detail provided satisfactory results. Yesterday he'd formed the blade itself, shaping and hammering it until he was happy. Today he needed to heat it evenly and cool it slowly, so that any stresses and weaknesses created by the previous work disappeared.

He enjoyed working in the forge. He enjoyed the physical activity and the mental concentration required. Truthfully it was the only part of the family business he did enjoy. The rest involved too much number-crunching and schmoozing customers. Nowadays his uncle rarely set foot in the forge; he employed others to craft the fabulous blades they sold all over Vana'diel.

" Not locked up in the counting house yet?" Cerenth said, from behind him.

Gilder jumped. He pulled the half-made sword out of the heat, cursing. " Damn it, Afro. Don't sneak up on me like that."

" No sneaking involved," his friend replied tartly. " I've been knocking on the door for the last ten minutes. Apparently you go deaf when you're working."

Gilder grinned. " It's called concentration."

" You might want to try some of that out in the field."

" You calling me a bad mage?"

" Nope. I'm just trying to count up how many times this past year you cast a –ga spell right after I finally managed to put all the mobs to sleep."

Gilder grinned again. " About as many times as you woke them all up yourself with a wild swing of your scythe. Besides I killed them all, didn't I?"

Cerenth grinned back." I prefer to call that luck rather than good judgement."

" Did you come here just to criticise? Or does your visit have an actual purpose?"

Cerenth moved around the table and started picking up tools one by one, checking them out, and putting them down again. " News. And the possibility of some action."

" No can do," Gilder said. " I promised I'd stay at least till the end of winter this time. Don't mess with my gear, Afro. You're muddling it up."

Up to now he'd fiercely resisted all his family's attempts to transform him into either an accountant or a salesman. At fifteen he'd abandoned any pretence of conformity and run off to become an adventurer. By twenty he was an accomplished, if somewhat foolhardy, black mage. But his mother and his uncle refused to give up, and lately he'd found himself resisting them less. After Iggy was killed, wandering and playing the hero began to lose its appeal. Or other things started to appeal more. He found he looked forward to the peace and comfort of home, if only when he was away from it. He thought about a home of his own. A family of his own. A wife. Out on the roads, all he could think about was how much he missed Igs. Damn him.

" You haven't heard the news yet," Cerenth told him.

Gilder turned away from the forge to look at his friend. Cerenth was the older of the two; how much older remained a mystery. Most of Cerenth was a mystery; where he came from, why, even if Cerenth was his true name. He had the dark skin and wiry hair of the far south, and his arms and upper body were covered with intricate tattoos. Gilder had fallen early into the habit of letting the older man make most of the decisions. It was a habit that was proving much harder to break than he had previously expected.

He shrugged. " Suppose I say I'm not interested?"

A year ago, give or take a few days, he'd met a woman. A girl. The daughter of one of his uncle's associates. He didn't work out until too late that the meeting hadn't been quite as accidental as he supposed. By then he'd already fallen under Thalia's spell, and both their families were talking excitedly about alliances, and dowries, and the creation of a great mercantile dynasty. Gilder panicked. Adventurers didn't marry. They didn't have homes and families. What the hell had he been thinking? He fled back to Jeuno and threw himself headlong into the Abyssean campaign. He didn't mention Thalia to anyone. Then, one night when he was maudlin drunk, he confessed the whole of it to Abs. And the elvaan had looked back at him and asked the only pertinent question left in the whole damned world.

" Do you love her?"

Gilder groaned. " I think so."

" What the hell are you doing here then?" Abs replied.

Gilder pulled the blade out of the coals again and plunged it into cold water. Steam hissed up and enveloped both him and Cerenth.

" Trying to make me disappear with smoke tricks isn't going to help," Cerenth said.

Gilder sighed. That was true. The other man wouldn't go away until he'd gotten what he came for. " Spit it out then. But I'm warning you, I'm dining tonight at Thalia's. All the fancy stuff. Five courses. And musicians. They're expecting a proposal. So . . ."

" Ela's back," Cerenth said.

" WHAT? When?"

" The day before yesterday."

" What happened? Is she in trouble?"

" She came to the house in Bastok," Cerenth replied, grinning like an idiot who'd just won a million on the chocobo races. " Apparently she got a summons from Aht Urghan."

" Whoa," Gil said. " What? A summons from who?"

" Whom."

" What?"

" A summons from whom, Gilder."

" Titan's balls, Afro, just tell me the damned story."

" Well, either she doesn't know who sent it or she's not saying. But my money's on Nashmeira."

" Oh great. If this involves Odin and Alexander again, you can count me out. Once was quite enough."

Cerenth was still grinning like a fool. But that was no surprise. He'd always been overly fond of phrases like 'terrible danger', 'insurmountable odds', and 'heroic recklessness'.

" Indescribable terror too," Gilder muttered, turning his attention back to the unfinished sword.

" Hmmm?"

" Nothing. I was talking to myself. Tell me one good reason why I should drop everything, upset the woman I love, and piss off her family? Just to go help El with this?"

" Is that a serious question?"

Gilder sighed. " No. I guess not. But El walked out on us, Afro. Does she really expect us all to come running just because she . . ."

" I got the distinct impression she didn't expect anything," Cerenth replied, walking towards the door. " But I'm going regardless. I'm meeting her in Jeuno in two days time. I guess it's up to you if you come or not."

He walked out of the forge, leaving his friend staring at the open door. Gilder resisted the temptation to run after him and protest that of course he was coming. He put the unfinished sword down. Then he kicked the table.

After a while he left the workshop himself, went into the house and upstairs to his rooms. He looked out of his window across the square, into the window opposite. There was a vase on the ledge there, holding a single white flower. He took the matching white flower out of the vase on his own window-sill and switched it for a red one. Then he changed out of his work clothes, picked up a cloak, and left the house again.

Winter in Windhurst was a little more temperate than elsewhere in Vana'diel. It was still cool, but there were no bitter frosts, no impenetrable banks of fog, no days when the sun barely seemed to rise and the rain tumbled down interminably. Today the sky was streaked with grey clouds, and the wind was playing pointless games with eddies of fallen leaves, but at least it wasn't gloomy. Gilder made his way to a small public garden in the south of Windhurst Waters, sat down on a bench, and waited.

The flowers in the window had been Thalia's idea. A secret code. Red meant, I need to see you. Her willingness to meet him without her parents' knowledge was just another strand in the knot of fascination she'd woven around him. She was seventeen and beautiful. But he'd met many other suitable young ladies who were equally as beautiful. Thalia, however, was also intelligent, articulate, and unconventional. She was fascinated by tales of his adventures and demanded that he teach her some spells. After a frying a few innocent insects outside the city walls with some basic fire magic, she wanted to learn sword-craft. Gilder refused – he could imagine the uproar if her parents ever found out – but he did teach her some simple hand-to-hand moves. She proved unexpectedly deft at them. And the rough-and-tumble of combat led to kissing. And kissing led to other things. She proved unexpectedly deft at those too.

He groaned aloud. How the hell was he going to tell her he had to leave again?

" You sound like you have a belly-ache," she said from behind him.

He swivelled round on the bench. " I don't know about a belly-ache. But I must be tired. People keep managing to sneak up on me today."

She smiled sideways at him, looking pleased. " I did try and sneak."

" Then you were highly successful."

" Good." She settled down on the bench next to him, keeping the proscribed distance. Meeting in public, even if her parents didn't know the meetings were pre-arranged, wasn't against the rules. If anyone saw them, they looked like a typical courting couple, very proper, very formal. But he could smell the sweetness of her perfume from where he sat and see the warmth in her eyes. And he could remember far too well the way her body folded against his, in other, less public places, and the way she sighed under his hands.

He cleared his throat.

" What's up?" Thalia asked.

He decided that directness was the best approach. " I have to leave Windy again."

He saw her stiffen, but she didn't make a fuss. " When?"

" Today. I need to be in Jeuno by Iceday."

" Oh Gil."

" I know, sweetling. I'm so sorry."

" My father will be furious."

" I know. But I have to go. Something came up, something I can't get out of."

She turned and looked at him, her dark eyes hiding nothing. He had never seen any trace of dissembling or pretence in Thalia; it was one of the things he loved best about her.

" You mean something you don't want to get out of," she replied, smiling faintly.

He looked away. " Yes. I'm sorry."

" There's no need to apologise, Gil. I wouldn't love you if you weren't the person you are."

Right then he felt like he hated the person he was. " I don't deserve you."

" Nonsense," she said. " You know I'd never ask you to give up the adventuring. Whatever my parents think. I don't expect you turn into a merchant, Gil, just because you want to marry me. You'd be miserable, and you'd start to hate me."

" I could never hate you, Tal," he protested. " I adore you."

" How much?"

" Millions. Zillions."

" Then take me with you," she said.

He reared backwards. " Whoa. What?"

" Take me with you. I want to be an adventurer too."

" Tal, you can't. I mean, you're . . . you're young, and untrained, and . . . it's DANGEROUS out there, Tal."

" You mean I'm a girl."

" I didn't say that," he replied, trying hard not to think it either. " But you come from a wealthy family. You're used to soft beds and good food and comfortable clothes. You wouldn't . . . I mean . . ."

" I wouldn't last a week out on the roads?" she asked, those lambent eyes fierce now.

Sometimes he would swear she could read his mind. " I didn't say that either."

" No, but you were thinking it. I know I'm all the things you say, Gil, but I can learn. I learn fast. I've been practising the magic by myself." She scrambled to her feet. " Look, I'll show you."

He grabbed hold of her wrist. " Sit down! You can't do magic here. It's forbidden, you know that."

" No one will see."

" I don't care."

" You're not being fair," she protested, subsiding back down on to the bench. " When you ran off to be an adventurer, you didn't take any notice of all these stupid arguments."

" I didn't try and persuade someone else, someone who loved me very much, to take me out into danger either."

" Fine," she snapped. " Fine. I'll go by myself then."

" Tal!"

" What?"

He sighed.

" Okay," he said. " Okay. I won't go to Jeuno. I'll stay in Windy. Tal, don't cry. Why are you crying? Sweetling, I love you, there's no need to cry. We'll get married and live happily ever after and . . ."

" No," she choked. " No. It's okay. You must go to Jeuno. I'd hate myself if I stopped you." She sat up and scrubbed fiercely at her eyes whilst he cursed the conventions that meant he couldn't comfort her, except with words. " See? I'm fine now. Tears all gone."

He looked at her, and she smiled bravely back at him, and his heart ached so hard he could barely breathe.

" I love you so much," he said.

" I love you too."

" When I get back, I'll teach you more spells."

" Okay."

" And how to fight with a katana."

" A great katana?"

He made an effort to smile. " Don't push your luck."

" Spoilsport!"

" I'd better go," he said.

She folded her hands in her lap, as if it was an effort not to reach out for him. " Yes."

" I'll see you soon, sweetling."

" Yes," she said again, smiling. " Be careful, Gilly."

" Always," he replied.

This time he meant it. This time he had something to come back for.


	4. Chapter 4

FOUR

Elanie sat in a corner of the storage office and resisted the urge to check the clock yet again. Staring at it wouldn't make bureaucratic wheels grind any faster. She'd been there for three hours already, and there was still no sign of the clerk reappearing with her gear.

It was hard not to fidget. Not to look stressed. Because she was stressed. She didn't want to be in Jeuno. She'd never cared much for the Grand-Duchy; it was crowded and full of idiots. But it had always been the best place to pick up information and make contacts. Afro was better at that kind of thing though. He seemed to enjoy politics and intrigue.

Mainly she didn't want to be in Jeuno because she didn't want to run into Wolfgang. When she first met the hume commander, he'd been Duke Kam'lanaut's eyes and ears and mouthpiece. These days he ruled the city himself, although nobody actually stood up and said so. Nobody ever seemed to acknowledge that Kam'lanaut was dead. Or that he'd died a traitor. The conspiracy of silence always made her nervous, especially since she'd played an instrumental part herself in bringing about the Duke's downfall. It was ridiculous, of course, to be worrying still that Wolfgang planned on hauling her off to the dungeons. The Duke had died a while ago. And his second-in-command probably rather enjoyed the elevation in status. But she didn't trust Wolfgang any more than she trusted the Wyrm God himself. Well, okay, maybe a little more than the Wyrm God . But not much more. Not much more at all.

It was getting late now. Not far off dinner-time. She'd be lucky to get her gear out and checked over before tomorrow at this rate. Still, at least the stream of happy and satisfied customers, all trundling away with their own items safely returned, had dried from a flow to a trickle. She didn't have to grit her teeth to stop scowling at them anymore.

Perhaps it was time to give the people at the desk another prod. Remind them she was still waiting.

" You still here then?" the clerk said.

Elanie gave him a withering look. " Nope. I'm a figment of your fevered imagination."

" Say what?"

" Yes, I'm still here. As you can see. Still waiting. Any further news on what the hold-up is?"

" I'll go check."

" You do that."

She leaned on the counter and sighed. At least the storage office was warm. There'd been a bitter wind blowing in off the sea all day; she'd heard a couple of announcements earlier that they were having trouble landing the air-ships because of it. On the other hand, if she'd been at home mucking out the pigs, she might have been frozen, but she wouldn't be worrying about Wolfgang sneaking up on her. The thought of Wolfgang wading through pig-shit made her grin. His shiny white armour wouldn't look so pristine then.

When the clerk came back, he was frowning. He was also carrying a list. She wasn't sure which boded worse.

" I'm sorry you've been kept waiting, ma'am," he said.

Ma'am? Either they were sucking up because they'd lost her gear or . . . no, they were sucking up because they'd lost her gear.

" You lost it, didn't you?" she demanded.

He took a step back. " Lost what?"

" My stuff."

" No no. Of course not. It's just . . . ahhh . . ."

" Temporarily mislaid," someone else said. Smoothly. From behind her.

Elanie shut her eyes. " Yay, the day just went from bad to horrible."

" Sir . . . Sir Wolfgang," stammered the clerk. " I do assure you, the lady's belongings aren't lost, sir. It's just . . . well . . ."

" She's been gone a long time, and you're having a few problems laying your hands on them?" Wolfgang suggested.

" Yes. Yes, exactly, sir."

" Naturally you'll have located them by morning?"

" Of course."

" Good, good. In the meantime I'll take the lady away and . . ."

Elanie opened her eyes again. " Dispose of her body?"

Wolfgang smiled. " Make sure she's well-looked-after."

He slid a hand under her elbow and propelled her firmly out of the door. There was no point making a scene; he would just ignore it. As would everyone else. And if she disappeared forever into the depths of the Arch-Ducal palace, she'd just have to hope that Afro, or someone, had the sense to come looking for her.

" I see you haven't lost your flair for the dramatic," Wolfgang said, as his honour-guard fell smartly into place behind him.

" Just wanted to make sure people know where to look for my body," Ela replied.

" Indeed. Because the last time I surreptitiously murdered you, it took them ages to find the corpse."

She laughed despite herself. Then she scowled. She hated it when he did that. Disarmed her despite all her best efforts. He still had his hand tucked under her elbow, but he made it look like he was escorting her politely, not hauling her off for interrogation.

" Where are we going?" she demanded.

" I haven't seen you for months," he replied. " I'd really rather not stand and chat in the middle of Jeuno."

" Chat?" She liked how disbelieving she sounded.

" You have such a suspicious mind."

" No, I'm just naturally cautious."

" Especially around me, it seems."

" How very observant of you."

When they reached the palace, he led her up the stairs towards his private rooms. The guards filed off to take up their customary positions, two at the top of the stairs, two guarding his door. Wolfgang's major-domo met them in the hallway, but Wolfgang waved him away.

" I'm busy for the rest of the evening, Hans," he said. " Have them send up food for two in about an hour."

Elanie didn't argue. No one would have taken any notice. If he planned on feeding her, her execution probably wasn't imminent. Besides, she was hungry. And Wolfgang had an excellent cook.

" Wine?" he asked, depositing her next to the couch.

She sank down onto the green and gold cushions. " As long as it's drug-free."

He grinned. " If it's drugged, it's aimed at me, not you. But we should be safe. The bottle's unopened. San D'Orian Chateau Rougemont. A very good vintage, I believe."

He poured out two glasses, handed her one, and then joined her on the sofa. She admired the way the crystal goblet refracted the flickering orange of the fire. Anything rather than look at Wolfgang.

" You really don't trust me, do you?" he said eventually, putting down his wine and pulling off his armoured gauntlets.

Elanie shook her head. " No."

" Why?"

" You're lord of Jeuno, and I'm naturally suspicious of authority figures?"

" I had hoped we were friends."

" Princes and politicians don't make good friends, my lord."

" Last time you were here, you called me Wolfgang."

Last time she was there, she'd been naked in his bed. Remembering made her blush a little. He smiled, and she scowled again.

" What are you after?" she demanded.

" Why did you disappear? Where did you go?"

She shook her head. " You expect me to believe you don't know exactly why I went and where I went to? I work for you, Wolfgang, at least from time to time. I imagine your spies had a full report on your desk a week after I left Jeuno."

" Humour me, Ela. I want to hear your version. My spies, as you call them, are very good with facts. But motives and feelings are much more hard to pinpoint and generally much more significant."

She shrugged. " It's hardly mysterious. My brother-in-law got sick. I couldn't save him. So I stayed to help my sister."

" Who doesn't require your help any longer?"

She shrugged again. " I got tired of the stink of pigs. Just taking a break, that's all."

" A break that requires your white mage and dancer gear?"

She'd trained as a dancer a few years ago. She'd always been good with daggers, although mages traditionally used clubs or staves as weapons. And some of the dancer battle-moves were good for healing too. Afro had always argued they shouldn't specialise too much in one area; that all of them should be combat-trained. Their versatility was one of the reasons their group got so much work. That and their success rate.

" Just checking it was still there," she told Wolfgang.

" Oh really?"

" Now you sound like the suspicious one."

" I'm paid to be suspicious."

She supposed his position was a tad precarious. After all he didn't have any hereditary right to it. The notables of Jeuno, whoever they were, seemed to have decided they didn't require another Grand Duke. But they could probably decide, just as randomly, that they didn't require Wolfgang either. He was only as good as his last political coup. No wonder he made sure that his system of spies, informants and mercenaries – mercenaries like her – was as effective as it was. But he did seem to have the backing of Aldo and the Tenshodo. Most people dismissed the Tenshodo as assassins and pirates, and Elanie didn't doubt they operated on the wrong side of legal often enough. But they were hugely influential in Jeuno's power structure, and they undoubtedly acted to preserve the Duchy's best interests. It had been the Tenshodo who discovered Duke Kam'lanaut's Zilartian heritage; the Tenshodo who uncovered his plan to release the Crystal Warriors and re-open the Gate of the Gods. With their support, Wolfgang was almost unassailable. And Elanie trusted the Tenshodo.

" I received a summons," she said. " From Aht Urghan."

Wolfgang nodded. " I know."

" Altana's tears, Wolfgang! Why all the questions then?"

" I don't know who the summons was from, what they want, or what you plan to do about it. If it threatens Jeuno's security, I need to know."

" Jeuno's relatively friendly with Aht Urghan. Why don't you ask them yourself?"

He stood up and started taking off his metal cuirass. After a moment, Elanie stood up too and helped him. Armour wasn't the easiest thing to remove unaided. He wore a woollen jerkin underneath, protection against the weight of the metal. Underneath that was a finely woven cotton shirt. With most of the trappings of his rank removed, he didn't look so formidable. In fact he looked almost boyish, dark hair tousled, dark eyes tired. But she wasn't foolish enough to underestimate him.

" You know as well as I do," he said eventually, pouring them both more wine. " That the message you received came through unofficial channels. I've a suspicion who sent it but no hard evidence. And if my suspicions are correct, then I believe I'm also correct to be concerned. I can think of only one reason for . . . this person to require your help, and that reason has ramifications for Jeuno."

" Which are?"

He sighed. " Elanie, why do you make everything such hard work? Just tell me who the damn message was from."

" No. Not until you explain your reasoning."

" If you're not working with me, than I have to assume you're working against me. And fond as I am of you . . ."

She made a rude noise. " I do what my conscience tells me is right."

Suddenly he was laughing. " Titan's balls, why do I find myself having to work with the one adventurer in Vana'diel who has a conscience? Don't you realise, politicians hate mercenaries who aren't swayed only by cash?"

" Well, you picked the wrong group for your schemes then," she retorted.

He took her hands and squeezed them. " I don't believe that for a second. Okay, have it your way. But if your conscience sends you in the wrong direction, don't expect my support." He pulled her back down onto the couch and handed her back her wine. " I suspect – without any proof of course – that your message came from Nashmeira. Her advisors are pushing her to marry, and to marry to the Empire's advantage. Knowing this, we've put forward Prince Trion's name as a possible bridegroom."

Elanie stared. " And Trion let you?"

" I believe the prince thinks Nashmeira will decline politely," Wolfgang replied wryly. " And yes, I know, Trion is in love with Captain Curilla. Most of Vana'diel knows."

Elanie grinned. " If not Curilla herself."

" Both Trion and Curilla are perfectly well aware that princes generally marry for politics rather than romance."

" Poor princes."

" A mercenary who believes in love as well as conscience?"

She made another rude noise. " Aren't we getting off the subject?"

" A little," he agreed. " Nashmeira hasn't outright refused any of the proposed alliances so far. And, frankly, I'm not that concerned which one she accepts, though it would suit us better if she chose Trion. My concern is that she means to refuse all of them. My concern is . . ."

" That, unlike Trion and Curilla, she doesn't think princes have to marry for political reasons?"

" Ahhh," Wolfgang said. " I see you're following me. I'm worried that Nashmeira is chasing some . . . romantic dream. That in itself isn't a problem either; if her advisers object to her choices, it's up to them to deal with her, not me. But if this romantic dream takes the route I think it will . . . well . . ."

" And what route are you worried it might take?"

" You don't give anything away, do you?" he demanded, smiling again. " Conscience aside, you'd make a good politician."

" Oh, spare me that," she said.

" Indeed. Nashmeira may think her infatuation with that Ephramadian is some great secret, but it's my business to be aware of anything that might pose a problem. Her fondness for Prince Luzaf is immaterial as long as it doesn't affect her judgment. But if she's intent on finding him again – and yes, I'm perfectly well aware that Odin owns him, body and soul – then I need to know how she plans on doing that. More to the point, if her plans affect us, I need to stop her."

Elanie herself already suspected that Nashmeira did have some foolhardy scheme to find Luzaf. But she didn't see how any of it jeopardised Jeuno. " Why?"

" Think," he said. " Luzaf belongs to Odin. Freeing him means bargaining with Odin. Or fighting Odin. I don't want to lose my best people to some crazy-headed, kick-ass powerful, celestial avatar. You're useful, and I need you. But that's almost beside the point. You need to find Odin to either bargain or fight. And he hasn't exactly left a calling card with his name and address on it at the Imperial Palace. As far as I'm aware, the best way to track Odin down is to summon . . ."

" Shit," Elanie said. " Alexander."

" Exactly. I'd like to avoid a re-run of Ragnarok if at all possible."

As far as anyone knew, Odin, avatar of darkness, had only one purpose. To defeat Alexander, the celestial avatar of light. As long as Alexander remained quiescent, Odin was content to lurk in the shadows. But if someone was foolish enough – and powerful enough - to summon the former, Odin would react. The two would fight. Since they were equal and opposing in their strengths and weaknesses, such a fight would end in stalement. No victor. Unfortunately, in the process, they would destroy most of Vana'diel.

" Nashmeira would never summon Alexander," Elanie said. " Never. She was there when her brother tried it; she saw what happened."

" Let's hope so," Wolfgang replied. " But I need you to make sure she doesn't. If she's bent on finding Odin, and you insist on helping her, then point her in the direction of the Northlands. We suspect that's where his proto-crystal is. Or was. There's some talk that it's been destroyed, which may be why he needs Prince Luzaf in order to manifest himself."

" You want me to send her off on some wild goose chase?"

" No. I want you to talk her out of the whole damn business. Failing that, I want you to make sure she doesn't try and summon Alexander. Anything else is up to you. If you're stupid enough to go up against Odin, I guess that's your choice. As long as you don't bring him down on Jeuno . . . Oh, and I'd prefer you to come back alive, if possible."

" Thanks," Elanie said dryly.

Wolfgang grinned. " I told you, you're useful."


	5. Chapter 5

**FIVE**

" Wake up, you lazy fuck," Saoshyant said, throwing open the nearest window. " It stinks worse than a brothel in here. What the hell were you drinking last night?"

The only response from the bed was a muffled groan.

The room was a cramped attic at the top of the inn, and a carved wooden bed took up most of it. There was a small, three-legged table under the farthest eaves-window, which held a foul-smelling tallow candle and an empty bottle of brandy. A painted chest stood at the foot of the bed, making it hard to open the door. A chair, patterned with faded embroidery and torn in places, hugged the near wall, close to the open window. It was piled with abandoned clothing.

" Gods, what a dump," Saoshyant muttered. Seridor could easily afford better, at least when he'd just come out of a job. But he preferred spending his cash on brandy. And more brandy. Saoshyant looked at Gigima, who was hovering in mid-air, as close to the window and fresh air as it could get. The wyvern looked back at him inscrutably.

" Any chance you could help me out here?" he asked it.

Gigima back-winged and landed on the crumpled coverlet. It eyed the foot hanging out from under the coverlet and then looked back at Saoshyant.

" Go for it." the elvaan said, grinning.

Gigima bit down on the toe closest to him. There was an outraged yell from the bed's occupant, who kicked out wildly with the injured appendage. But Gigima had launched itself off the bed as soon as its teeth hit home, and the kick connected with nothing but empty air.

" What the fuck . . .?" demanded the body in the bed. " Soap, you bastard, did you just bite me?" 

" Nope," Saoshyant replied. " You must have been drinking rot-gut. It's made you delusional."

" My fucking foot is fucking bleeding."

Spiky silver hair emerged from under the sheets. Followed by equally silver eyes and a scowl that a Gigas ogre would have been proud of.

" Get your wyvern out of my fucking room," the scowl growled.

Saoshyant sat himself on the window-ledge, propping himself in place with one brown-booted foot. " It's not my wyvern, you prat."

" Technicalities," Seridor said, slowly becoming somewhat more vertical. " Shiva's tits, my head hurts. You have parental responsibility for the wyvern so . . ."

" Parental responsibility? What the hell?"

" Okay, maybe not parental. But it lives with you, so you're responsible for it. And anyway, my point still stands. Get it out of my fucking room."

" You think it does what I tell it to? Have you tried living with a wyvern that can't stand you? I tell you, if Iggy weren't dead already, I'd kill him for landing me with his bloody dragon."

Gigima hissed and back-winged again, landing on the chair nearest to Saoshyant.

" Soap, mate," Seridor said. " I don't think it likes you talking about Iggy and the D-word."

" No, Abs," Saoshyant agreed. " I don't think it does."

It was Gilder who named Seridor Abs. Not in tribute to his perfectly honed stomach, although its perfection wasn't really in question; working out regularly with a great axe the size of a small donkey has a toning effect on most muscle groups. The nickname was rather a reference to Seridor's conviction that he was everyone's physical superior.

" Come to think of it, I don't like it either," he said.

" No one likes it," Saoshyant admitted. " Let's talk about something else."

" Yeah. Like, what the fuck are you doing in my room anyway? I'm on holiday. Why've you interrupted my hangover?"

Saoshyant edged further along the window ledge. Gigima was still staring at him, and it made him nervous. " Message from Afro."

Seridor stretched and scratched under one armpit. " What now?"

" He wants us back in Jeuno."

" He can go fuck himself."

" Says it's important. Says he found us a white mage."

" Name?"

Saoshyant shrugged. " He doesn't say. But apparently we'll definitely want to check this one out."

" I hate it when Afro goes all mysterious."

" I'm thinking it's a really hot mithra."

" A really hot Mithra?" Seridor asked. " You mean, like the last one? The one that laid you flat on your back with a killer punch because you groped her ass? Then called you an arrogant, elvaan prick, grabbed her gear and bailed on us. Right before the orcs attacked?

" Yeah," Saoshyant said, grinning. " Just like that one. In my defence, I momentarily forgot she wasn't Nellie."

" Grab Ela by the ass and you'll get worse than a punch."

" She knows I don't mean it."

" Maybe she'd be less likely to punch you if you did mean it."

" Say what?"

Seridor threw back the sheets and stood up. " Never mind. Women are a mystery to you, right? I'm not even going to attempt to explain. Where the fuck did I put my gear?"

" You probably gambled it all away again."

If they were out of work for more than a couple of weeks, the two of them generally found themselves penniless and then gearless. Saoshyant spent his cash more productively, at least in his own eyes; on expensive musical instruments and whichever even more expensive, but generally less musical young lady he was currently besotted with. After a while he'd be forced to pawn the instruments to keep up with the young lady's taste in jewellery. Then he'd pawn his gear. Seridor tended to by-pass the pawn-shop and just gamble his gear straight off. Cerenth had needed to come and bail the pair of them out more than once.

" Nope," Seridor said. " No gambling yet. Lots of Elshimo brandy and glorious elvaan ladies with large . . . appetites. But definitely no gambling." He looked at the window. " I remember staggering home, and then staggering upstairs. And then . . ." He narrowed his eyes at Gigima. " Get off my fucking gear, dragon."

They both looked at the wyvern. Saoshyant was convinced it raised a quizzical eyebrow at them. Sometimes its expression looked so exactly like Iggy's, he wanted to strangle it.

" Damn wyvern," he muttered. " I swear it attached itself to me just to wind me up."

" Apparently they're like cats," Seridor replied, lacing up his breeches. " They pick on the person they know hates them and then follow them around like a shadow."

" Yeah, well, if it was anybody's shadow but Iggy's, I WOULD strangle it."

" Why the fuck do you keeping banging on about Iggy?"

Saoshyant scowled at his friend. " You try living with a constant reminder of him hovering by your left shoulder and see how it affects your mood."

" I don't have moods. I'm just permanently depressed. Much less hard work."

" Maybe if you didn't drink so much . . .?"

It was Seridor's turn to scowl. " What do you suggest instead? Go and visit the family estate? Hey Ma, hey Pa, remember me? I'm the wastrel, good-for-nothing son you disinherited." He picked up his axe and swung it backwards and forwards a couple of times. " Remember how you told me I was a waste of space? Well, guess what? I'm still a waste of space." The axe swung again, and the chair next to Saoshyant disintegrated.

Gigima hissed.

Saoshyant stayed prudently silent.

After a while Seridor sat down on the bed. " It seems I broke my chair."

" I see this."

" I need another drink."

" Nah. You need work. We should head back to Jeuno."

" You think that will help?"

Saoshyant shrugged. " Short term, maybe. Long term, well . . ." He sighed. " Know what I think?"

Seridor's mouth twitched. " No, but I expect you're going to tell me."

" I think we're cursed."

" And I think all those fucking ballads you insist on playing have finally pushed you over the edge, you prat."

" No, listen," Saoshyant insisted. " Nothing's gone right since we killed Promathia."

Seridor shook his head. " We didn't kill Promathia. You can't kill gods. We just deflected him for a while. Then Altana came while he was reeling from the deflection and magicked him off. But we didn't kill him."

" Whatever. Deflected him then, call it what you like. But it pissed him off, and now he's mad at us. First he killed Iggy . . ."

" Which is a bit more permanent than a curse . . ."

" Yeah, well, Iggy escaped the cursing part."

" Escaped?" Seridor demanded. " ESCAPED?"

" Okay, okay, bad choice of words. But since Igs was killed, everything's fallen to bits."

" So it's Iggy who cursed us, not Promathia?"

" No, no. Shut the fuck up, will you? Iggy dying was the start of the curse. Then Nellie decided to quit on us. Gil met some woman and started losing interest. Afro's house practically burned down and . . ."

Seridor started shaking his head. " You're crazy. Completely fucking crazy. That's called life, you prat. And some bad luck. It's not a curse."

" Says you."

" The others will say the same. If you're daft enough to repeat this to them."

" I still think . . ."

" Not very often and not for long enough."

" What?"

" You and thinking."

"Fuck you," Saoshyant replied.

" Sure, if you think you can handle it."

" Fuck off."

Seridor grinned. " Coward. Come on, let's go find some breakfast. I need some excessively charred sausage, and lots of it, to chase off the last of my hangover."

They clattered down the curved stairs from the attic, Gigima winging silently behind them. When they reached the inn's public rooms, there were few people about; just a hume man stacking up bottles behind the bar and a tarutaru of indeterminate gender wiping down the tables. Saoshyant always found it difficult to tell if taru were male or female. He forbore patting this one on the ass until he was sure.

" Breakfast's over," the taru said when Seridor pulled out a stool and sat down.

" But it's me, Lissa," he said. Judging by his wheedling tone, she was definitely female.

" And?" she asked, tiny hands on hips.

" And you love me?"

" Try again."

" And my friend, Saoshyant, will sing a lovely ballad in praise of your voluptuous curves if you feed us." Saoshyant widened his eyes. Still, she was definitely cute, for a three-foot-high person. " Besides, the rent I pay you includes breakfast."

" It includes breakfast if you get up at a civilised hour, you lazy elf."

" How about an early lunch then?"

She tapped a tiny foot on the floor. Saoshyant grinned.

" Looks like your famous charm isn't working, Abs," he said.

The taru rolled her eyes. " What famous charm?"

" The charm that has every woman in a five-mile-radius queuing up for a turn in his bed?"

" Pffft," she replied. " I think he's been telling you lies, my friend."

Seridor put a finger to his lips. " Shhhh. Don't ruin my image. Come on, Lissa. Feed us. We're starving here."

" Fine," she said. " Fine. But an early lunch is ten extra coppers. And you get whatever I can find in the kitchen. I'm not asking my staff to cook for you; they're busy preparing for sensible patrons who eat their meals at appropriate hours. And if that wyvern poops on my floor, you clean it up yourselves."

All three of them looked at Gigima who looked back innocently and landed on an adjoining table.

" Oi, dragon," she said. " Off the table. It's unhygienic." Gigima whirled his turquoise eyes at her, and she visibly softened. " He's kind of cute. Who does he belong to?"

" Soap," Seridor said.

" No one," Saoshyant replied simultaneously.

Lissa looked at both of them. " Which?"

Seridor shrugged. " It's a long story."

" Fair enough. Well, if he wants to follow me through to the kitchen, I'm sure I can find him something to eat. What does he like?"

" Roast orc," Saoshyant replied, his mouth twitching only slightly. Actually he had no idea what the wyvern ate, or even if it did eat. If it did, it did it privately. He'd always assumed in the past that the spirit link between dragoon and pet kept the wyvern alive. But Gigima hadn't died when Iggy did. So it was all something of a mystery.

" Go with the nice lady, Gigima," he said. " She's got some treats for you in her kitchen."

Lissa rolled her eyes. Gigima cocked its head, looking at her. Then it unfurled its wings and rose up off the table, hovering at the taru's shoulder. Somehow it managed not to catch its wing tips on the floor.

" Wow," Saoshyant said. " That's a first."

" He likes me," Lissa said demurely, winking at the wyvern.

Saoshyant was almost certain the wyvern winked back.

Their late breakfast – or early lunch – arrived ten minutes later. There was a large platter of fresh bread, creamy cheese and Tavnazian salad, some cold slices of rabbit pie, and a large Galkan sausage. Also a steaming copper pot of Windhurstian tea.

" Tea?" Seridor demanded, looking outraged.

The taru scowled at him. " Drink it or go thirsty. You know perfectly well I can't serve anything stronger till after noon. They're very hot on licensing laws up at the Chateau."

Saoshyant had already dug in to the rabbit pie. " Eat and shut up, Abs. I want to catch the air-ship back to Jeuno as soon as we're done."

" Yeah," Seridor agreed. " They don't have stupid licensing laws in Jeuno."

" Maybe we can slip out before the wyvern notices."

" You want to do a runner on Iggy's wyvern?"

When he put it like that . . . " No. Yes! I don't know. But . . . "

" He's welcome to stay here," Lissa said. " He can be my guard-wyvern."

Seridor smiled at her. " That's kind of you. But I doubt he'll stay. For some weird and wonderful reason, he seems to have attached himself to Soap."

" For my sins," Saoshyant said, darkly, attacking the last piece of Galkan sausage before Seridor could steal it.

" My Galkan sausage, prat" Seridor yelped.

" Fuck off," Saoshyant replied.


	6. Chapter 6

**SIX**

Cerenth was pacing.

It was half-way through Iceday already, and there was no sign of any of the others. He'd been waiting in Port Jeuno all morning, half way between the air-ship docks for Windy and Sandy. No sign of Gilder. Or of Saoshyant and Seridor. And he had no idea where Elanie was.

She'd left Bastok, he knew that much. He'd checked at the Steaming Sheep after he got back from Windurst, and she'd left two days before. So he'd set off for Jeuno himself, but he hadn't been able to find her anywhere. She wasn't at any of the inns, although he'd hung around last night at all three of them. And when he'd gone to the storage office to see if she'd reclaimed her gear, they'd reacted as though he was one of the beastmen. It worried him.

He was tired of the clamour of Port Jeuno. Adventurers touting for work, or trying to sell off treasure, or just yelling insults at each other. Some days it invigorated him. But today it was annoying. People jostled him no matter where he stood. Huddles of youngsters in hand-me-down gear, come to Jeuno to make their fortunes, lined the port wall; they were all trying, and mostly failing, not to look overawed by the crowds and the noise as air-ships arrived and left again. Travellers from all over the three nations hurried past; merchants trying to hire guards; nobles looking down their noses at everyone else. Few of them would be residents of the city. Jeunoans avoided the port unless they had business there.

Cerenth sighed. He just wanted the others to arrive so he could stop worrying about where they'd gotten to. Mostly he wanted Ela to arrive. A day and a half in Jeuno, twiddling his thumbs, had given him time to think. To over-think. And the more he thought, the less he liked the situation. The political climate in Aht Urghan was a changeable one; they'd established a working relationship with Jeuno and the other western nations via the Tenshodo, and they'd also recently signed a truce with the Yagudo of the Far East, but the situation was volatile. Nashmeira showed every sign of becoming a strong and capable ruler. But Cerenth knew, from personal experience, that she was also headstrong and reckless. If Elanie became embroiled in some wild scheme of the Empress, it could easily end badly. He'd used Nashmeira's message to get Ela away from that damned farm. He'd also used it to drag Gilly from his lady-love and the other two from their drunken escapades in Sandy. Since Iggy's death, the group had fragmented more and more with every week that passed, and he was determined to put a stop to it. But perhaps it might have been wiser to wait for a safer option.

" Titan's balls," he muttered. If Ela didn't show soon, he was heading to the palace to interrogate Wolfgang.

A hand on his shoulder made him jump, and he whirled round, reaching for his staff.

" Whoa!" Gilder said, stepping backwards. " Someone's jumpy."

Cerenth let the staff slide back into its sling. " You're late."

" You said Iceday."

" I didn't say suppertime on Iceday."

" Afro, it's barely passed lunch. What's got you so riled?"

Cerenth shrugged and folded his arms, pushing his worries away. " Guess I just got impatient."

" Where are the others?"

His worries jostled back.

" They'll be here soon, I expect," he replied, as much to convince himself as Gilder. " I'm starving, I'll go and get us a couple of dhamel pies. You keep your eye out for the others. Abs and Soap are coming from Sandy."

He pushed his way down the stairs towards the chocobo stables; there was a stall nearby that did a brisk trade selling snacks to incoming travellers. After a few days on the road, it was amazing what people were prepared to eat as long as it was hot. Still, it was cheap. There was more spiced gravy and popoto than dhamel in the so-called dhamel pie, but it might stop his stomach churning. Although, down here, everything stank of sour sweat and worse, and his stomach was changing its mind about food. The crowds were even deeper than upstairs. The government-organised auction house was still the most popular option when it came to disposing of unwanted gear or loot, despite the tax levied on sales. Cerenth had use elbows and feet to jostle his way back out again. If there had been room to draw his staff, he might have rapped a few foreheads too.

When he climbed back up the stairs, he found Gilder being harassed by two tall elvaan. The first had long red hair, tied in a braid down his back. The braid was entangled in an ornate lute that had, no doubt, been vastly overpriced. It would also get broken during the first fight they ran into on the road. The second elvaan had silver-gilt, spiky hair that looked only slightly less razor-sharp than the enormous axe strapped to its owner's back. Both of them loomed over Gilder, and Cerenth could hear the three exchanging insults. A large turquoise and cream wyvern had settled on the balustrade next to them, a bored expression on its face.

" Hello, Gigima," he said, offering it a crust from the dhamel pie. It sniffed the offering, more out of politeness than anything else, he thought, then turned away and tucked its snout under one wing.

The others all turned at the sound of his voice.

" Afrooooooo," Saoshyant said.

" Soap," Afro replied. He nodded at the lute. " Been wasting your coin again, I see."

The red-haired elvaan looked offended. " This lute once belonged to Lewenhart himself, back in the Crystal Wars. It's an instrument of vastly superior craftsmanship."

" Who told you that?" Cerenth demanded.

" The guy he bought it off, of course," Seridor said, grinning.

" Hey," Saoshyant protested. " I'm not an idiot. You can see where Lewenhart's nameplate used to be. Look!"

Cerenth widened his eyes. " Used to be, huh?"

" Yeah . . ."

" How do you know it didn't used to say . . . um . . .?"

" Saoshyant?" Seridor suggested. " That's a whole nine letters long."

" Most elvaan names are nine letters long," Gilder added.

" Bastards," Saoshyant said. " I hate all three of you."

" Why does a corsair even need a lute anyway?" Gilder demanded, taking the pie Cerenth held out to him.

" I'm a bard in training," declared the red-haired elvaan. " And you can laugh, Gilder, but I bet you won't be complaining when I give you Mage's Ballad as well as Evoker's Roll and your mana regeneration goes through the roof."

" Indeed," Gilder agreed. " I won't be complaining because I'll have died of shock. Since when did you ever buff your mages, Soap?"

" Melee only," Seridor said, slapping Saoshyant on the back. " Good man."

Gilder rolled his eyes. " He only buffs you guys because it ups his own damage."

Seridor grinned. " Have to keep hate off the black mage somehow. Besides, buffing mages means moving, and we all know Soap doesn't do moving."

" If I'm moving," Saoshyant said. " I'm not shooting. And if I'm not shooting, stuff takes longer to die."

Seridor shrugged. " As long as I get Chaos roll, and I have a white mage to haste me, I'm happy. Speaking of which, Afro, where is this mystery healer of yours?"

" Mystery healer?" Gilder asked, looking at Cerenth.

Cerenth managed a smile. " Ah. Yes. Well . . ."

" You didn't tell them?"

" Tell us what?" Seridor demanded.

" Nothing," Cerenth replied. " Nothing at all. Everything is fine. She should be here any minute."

Gilder frowned. " What happened, Afro?"

" Nothing. Everything is fine."

" Is she a hot mithra?" Saoshyant asked. " Because if she's not a hot mithra then . . ."

" It's Ela," Gilder said, scowling at Cerenth. " Why isn't she here, Afro? What's going on?"

Cerenth found himself confronting three equally intimidating frowns. Gilder's was plainly provoked by worry. Saoshyant's looked confused. Seridor's was hostile. Seridor and Elanie had a volatile relationship; no one doubted for a second that they cared about each other, but they bickered incessantly and, at least thirty percent of the time, they engaged in open warfare. They'd last met when Ela announced she was leaving; the ensuing scene had not been a pretty one.

" Ho hum," Cerenth said. " Okay. Elanie received a mystery message from Aht Urghan a few days ago. From Nashmeira. I told her to meet us here in Jeuno, and I know she left Bastok because I checked. But I haven't heard from her since I arrived. So . . . well . . . maybe we should head on up to the Palace and see if anyone there knows anything."

The frowns in front of him didn't diminish.

" Wait, what?" Saoshyant asked. " Nellie is back?"

" Apparently so," Seridor drawled. " And apparently we're just going to let her stroll back in without any recriminations."

It was Cerenth's turn to frown." If I'm not mistaken, Abs, you did more than enough recriminating before she left. But whatever. It's up to you. If you don't want to come to Aht Urghan with us . . ."

" Let's worry about Aht Urghan later," Gilder interrupted. " Why would she be at the palace, Afro?"

Cerenth shrugged. " I'm pretty sure she's in Jeuno. When I asked at the storage office about her gear, there was a definite reaction. But I couldn't find her at any of the inns. So maybe Wolfgang hauled her off to ask some questions."

" In which case, they're probably in bed," Seridor snapped.

" Wait, what?" Saoshyant repeated. " Nellie and WOLFGANG?"

" Guys," Gilder said. " Let's stick to the point. Once we find her, we can do the rest of this shit." He walked off towards the stairwell without looking back. Cerenth did the same. At the moment he was less concerned about answering Saoshyant's questions and soothing Seridor than he was about Elanie's whereabouts. When he'd committed all of them to helping her, he hadn't really thought about the changing group dynamic. They could sort it out on the road. Of course they could. They always had in the past. . .

He caught up with Gilder in Ru'lude Gardens. As they made their way up the steps to the palace entrance, a blue and cream wyvern winged past and settled on one of the stone pillars. Cerenth glanced back and saw Saoshyant hurrying up behind them. There was no sign of Seridor. He looked across at Gilder, who shrugged.

" He'll get over it," Gil said. " You know how he and El fight. But if it does turn out that Wolfgang's locked her up in one of his dungeons, Abs will be the first one there, hammering the door down."

" Yeah," Cerenth agreed. He looked at the guards in front of them. " Kind of hope it doesn't come to that though."

" Me too," Gilder muttered, stepping forward and smiling at the guards. " Hello there. I'd like to talk to Sir Wolfgang please."

The guards looked nonplussed. It was an expression that didn't fit particularly well with their smart, ducal uniforms.

" Ahh . . . um . . . you have an appointment?" one of them asked eventually.

" Nope," Cerenth replied. He rather liked discomposing palace officials.

" It's alright, captain," a voice said, from the balcony overlooking the stairs. " We were expecting them. I'll be down in a second."

Everyone looked up. Elanie grinned at all of them, her bright red hair falling forward over her face as she leaned over the balustrade. At the sound of her voice, Gigima back-winged off his perch and arc-ed up through the stairwell, stopping to hover in front of her. The guards went from discomposed to alert in an instant. A couple drew weapons.

" Stand down, gentlemen," Ela said, scratching the wyvern under the chin. It arched its neck like a cat. " Gigima's an old friend." She craned further over the balcony to look at Cerenth and the others. " I'll just grab my gear, guys. Be right there."

" I guess she didn't need rescuing then," Gilder muttered.

" Apparently not," Cerenth muttered back. He gave the guards another nonchalant smile and adopted the most 'I regularly invade ducal palaces unnecessarily' stance that he could manage. Saoshyant was watching Gigima with a nervous look on his face. He was probably worried he'd be held financially responsible for any claw marks. The palace in Ru'lude Gardens was a Jeunoan statement about elegance and simplicity, but there was no mistaking the expense of its white marble floors and tastefully gilded walls.

" Gigima," Cerenth said. " Heel."

The wyvern cocked its head to look at him, then flicked its tail and disappeared after Elanie.

Gilder sighed. " Next time we do the palace thing, we should probably leave the livestock behind."

" You're welcome to try," Saoshyant replied.

They heard Ela laughing, and all three of them moved closer together.

" Should we go after it?" Saoshyant muttered.

Cerenth favoured the guards with another nonchalant smile. " Nope."

" Well if it shits on the ducal bed, it's Ela's wyvern, not mine."

" Okay."

" She needs to hurry up."

" El," Gilder bellowed. " Soap says hurry up. He's worried Gigima will shit on the ducal bed."

Saoshyant covered his face with his hands.

" I'm here," Elanie said, appearing at the top of the stairs. " And Gigima has perfect manners. Which is more than can be said for the rest of you. Hello, Soap. Hello, Gil."

" Nellie," Saoshyant said, grinning and bowing.

She snorted crossly as she came down towards them, Gigima close behind. She was wearing the robes of a high-rank healer, white and red with extravagant gold embroidery. Only one or two flame-coloured curls peeked out from beneath her hood.

" Very nice," Cerenth said. " I didn't realise you'd gotten all the orison gear. Are you planning to wear it out on the road?"

Elanie shrugged. " If you've got it, flaunt it. Besides, I thought it might make you guys treat me with some respect."

" Think again," Gilder replied, pulling her close for a hug.

" Abs and I don't do respect," Saoshyant added, removing her from Gilder and embracing her himself. Since she barely came up to his chest, it looked a little comical.

" And where IS Abs?" she asked. " Or is he still sulking about my desertion?"

" Hiring chocobos," Saoshyant replied. " But I'm sure he'll be happy to give you a hard time if you're looking for an argument."

" Arguments later," Cerenth said, turning to leave. " Let's get going. If we hurry, we can reach one of the old watch towers in Sauromugue before dark. Everyone got everything they need?"

" Could do with some shihei," Saoshyant said. " And I'm low on food. Afro, can I borrow some cash?"

Cerenth looked back over his shoulder. " Sell that fricken lute."

" No way. I'll pay you back, I promise."

" Yeah right. Like you always do, huh?"

" I do!"

" I'm keeping a list, Soap, I warn you."


	7. Chapter 7

**SEVEN**

Aeonus leaned against the wall in Master Aldo's office and tried to avoid looking at the paperwork on the desk. It was a test; he knew it. Aldo had left him alone deliberately. And no matter how all his thief's instincts urged him to rifle through it – stealing information was even more profitable than stealing coin – stealing from the Tenshodo was never a good idea. Especially not if you worked for them.

It was a large room, for an office. One wall was covered by a framed map that Aldo liked to study whilst he was talking. The other walls were painted cream, and there was a carpet on the stone floor, geometric patterns in terracotta and fawn. The carpet and the map symbolised the Tenshodo, at least to Aeonus. Wealth and knowledge, knowledge and wealth. But he was never entirely certain which of the two rated higher.

Aldo came back in. Aeonus watched him carefully. As far as he could tell, the older man never even looked at the desk. But he still nodded at Aeonus and smiled.

" Learned your lesson, boy, I see."

" Master?"

" Injured innocence doesn't work on me. You'd do well to remember that."

Aeonus stood upright. " I was tempted, but I resisted."

" Good lad," Aldo approved. " Now take a seat, and I'll fill you in. Sir Wolfgang will be here soon so we don't have much time."

Aeonus blinked. " The Duke?"

" Wolfgang's no Duke, lad," Aldo replied.

" Duke in all but name then."

Aldo frowned. " He rules Jeuno because he has the backing of the Tenshodo. And we back him because the city needs stability. When politicians and petty lordlings start jockeying for power, stability ends up in a piss-pot."

" Instability has its uses," Aeonus said.

" For thieves, maybe." Aldo replied. " Remember who you work for, lad. I don't mind you asking questions as long as they're sensible. I don't even mind some initiative. But if I think you're starting to think too much of your own advantage, you'll lose the wherewithal to see, speak or even steal a jot. Understood?"

" Understood, Master."

Aldo's threats didn't bother him. Not because he thought they didn't carry any weight. He knew if he proved disloyal, the Tenshodo would hunt him down and kill him. But he had no thought of disloyalty. Aldo paid in good silver coin, and there were other benefits too. The Guild's name opened a lot of doors that were firmly locked to anyone else.

" So," Aeonus said. " To work then? I gather the job involves the D . . . I mean, Sir Wolfgang?"

Aldo nodded. " It's a complicated tale. Wolfgang will give you the detail, no doubt. In the meantime, I'll tell you what the Tenshodo needs you to know." He waved at the stool nearby. " Sit, sit."

Aeonus sat.

" Wolfgang wants a spy," Aldo said. " To that end, we're providing you. He wants you to infiltrate a group of adventurers who left Jeuno yesterday afternoon. Headed to Aht Urghan."

" Why are they headed to Aht Urghan?"

" One of them has received a secret message from the Imperial palace."

Aeonus stared. Questions jostled for room inside his head. Then he made himself take a slow, deep breath and schooled his expression back to neutrality. Thinking quickly, he reached several fairly unavoidable conclusions.

" Elanie Byrne is part of this group?" he asked.

Aldo nodded. " Of course. The others are known to us as well."

" Cerenth, Gilder, Seridor, Saoshyant?"

" Indeed."

" Infiltration is hardly an option then," Aeonus said. " I've worked with them before. They know perfectly well who I am. And who I work for."

" It's Wolfgang who requires infiltration," Aldo replied. " Not the Tenshodo. We simply require someone along who can keep us informed of developments. I've worked with Cerenth and the others myself, and I've no reason to suspect their motives. You may tell them you come from the Tenshodo with my blessing. You may even tell them Wolfgang wants you to report on their activities. I suspect honesty will serve better in this instance."

" Do you have any idea what the Empress wants with them?"

" Since she's turned to Elanie, Wolfgang suspects – and I agree – that it involves Prince Luzaf."

Aeonus sighed. Aldo quirked an eyebrow at him.

" Alexander," Aeonus said. " Not my finest hour, Master."

He'd played a small part in the defeat of Alexander. A very small part. According to Seridor, he'd been more of a hindrance than a help, but still. He'd been there. The Empress had rewarded him accordingly. But facing Alexander again wasn't high on his 'to do' list.

" Hopefully," Aldo said. " Alexander will play no part in any of this."

" You think Odin will be any easier to deal with?" Aeonus tried not to sound sarcastic, but he wasn't sure he succeeded.

Aldo looked down his nose. " Frankly I've no expectation of any of this turning out to be easy, lad. That's why I'm involving the Tenshodo. I'd prefer not to get bitten on the backside by some recalcitrant godling that's snuck up behind me. Since Nashmeira's clearly intent on something, it behoves us to plan ahead." He opened a drawer in his desk and removed a purse. " Here's some coin for the trip. Keep a note of any additional expenses; we'll recompense you as long as they're reasonable. Wolfgang's fee is a healthy one, and you'll get thirty percent of that too, once the job is done. When he arrives, bear in mind, you and I discussed none of this beforehand. Understood?"

" Of course, Master," Aeonus replied, pocketing the purse. It clinked invitingly as he stowed it.

# # # #

Two hours later he'd finished nodding obediently to all of Wolfgang's orders, restocked his gear from the Tenshodo's stores, and eaten a hearty meal in the Merry Minstrel. Since Aldo had given him a hefty amount of coin, it made more sense to hire a mage to transport him to the Gate Crystal at Mea. If he tried to catch up to the others on the road, he might not manage it before they reached the port at Mhaura. He wanted to board the boat with them; the sea-passage to Aht Urghan would give him chance to explain his involvement properly. Elanie, at least, was prone to stomping off crossly, but confines of a boat would mean that wasn't an option. He was confident of his ability to talk her round in the meantime. If they were going up against Odin, any extra blade was surely a bonus.

Clearly the teleportation trade was in the doldrums; he was able to find a white mage happy to take him to Mea for less than a tenth of the coin in his pocket. He hired a mount to take him to the outpost in Buburimu and spent the night there, entertaining the guards with outrageous rumours that were mostly, if not completely, fabricated.

He reached Mhaura the next day. Unless Elanie and the others had ridden the whole way without resting, he was hopeful he'd arrived before them. So he settled himself down on the quayside where he could keep an eye on comings and goings. Watching people without seeming to was part of his training; it was surprising how much you could learn from mere quiet observation.

Mhaura was a small fishing town on the Kolshushu coast, about a day's ride from Windhurst. The harbour was almost completely enclosed by high cliffs, making it sheltered and calm even in winter. For that reason it had developed as a port also; the ferry boat from Selbina docked there and, when trade routes opened with the Empire, so too did those from Aht Urghan. It had quickly become a meeting place for travellers and adventurers, and its market stocked some rare and valuable items that might have otherwise seemed incongruous in such a place.

The water in the harbour was always clear blue, even at that time of year. The sun was always relatively warm, the breeze always gentle. Aeonus had made up his mind to buy a small house there when he retired. He'd fish from the rocks and tell tall stories about monsters and heroes to any passing traveller he could buttonhole. The thought of it made him smile. Such a long way from the stinking slum where he'd been born.

But it wasn't time for that yet. Not by a long way. Work to do. Secrets to ferret out. He quickly established the identities of Mhaura's inhabitants. Mostly they were of small interest to him, going about their business with little attention for the steady flow of travellers. The travellers themselves were worth more study. He entertained himself by inventing stories to explain their presence in the small fishing town.

It wasn't long before one in particular caught his attention.

The boy – barely more than a child really, judging by his beardlessness – kept to the fringes of the crowd like Aeonus himself. He didn't seem to be travelling with anyone; a curiosity in itself, given his youth. Unlike Aeonus, he seemed uncomfortable, drifting back and forward along the sea wall, constantly watching first the dock itself, then the cobbled street that led up from the town gate. Perhaps he was waiting for a parent who was late arriving. Or some other travelling companion.

He wore clothes that didn't seem to fit him properly. His tall hat was constantly slipping backwards off his head, and he kept pulling it up again so that the brim shadowed his face. After watching this pantomime for ten minutes or more, Aeonus felt almost tempted to take the boy to one side and give him a few lessons on not drawing attention. His nervous fidgeting drew the eye. He might as well have worn a sign around his neck that said, in large letters, ' look at me, I'm really trying to hide, but I'm very, very bad at it'.

Aeonus was so engrossed in watching the boy that he nearly missed more significant arrivals. Fortunately a loud discussion about the cost of a passage to Aht Urghan alerted him. He looked up to see Cerenth arguing with the ticket seller. Seridor was sitting on a pile of bags nearby, looking bored. There was no sign of the others, but Aeonus guessed they were around somewhere. He stopped leaning against the shadowed wall he'd chosen as a vantage point and strolled over to the silver-haired elvaan.

" Well, well," he said. " Look what the tide washed up."

Seridor turned and grinned. " Look what the wind blew in."

Aeonus grinned back. He'd always liked Seridor. The others were a touch prim, a tad superior, but Seridor knew how to relax and enjoy himself. Especially if it involved beer and a few of the local beauties.

" Headed to Jeuno?" Aeonus asked.

" Nope. Aht Urghan."

" Excellent. We can travel together. I was going to do some fishing on the boat, but you can distract me with the latest gossip instead. Soap not with you?"

" He's trying to pawn his lute," Seridor replied. " Three days out from Jeuno and he's realised it's not designed for travelling. The others are here too."

Aeonus raised an innocent eyebrow. " Oh? All going to Aht Urghan?"

" Yeah. Some mad scheme of Ela's."

" Elanie's here?"

" You do have some catching up to do," Seridor said. " Pull up a sack and I'll fill you in."

Aeonus settled down in the sunshine to listen, although he supposed he probably knew most of it already. No one even farted in Jeuno without Aldo and Wolfgang finding out about it. As he sat, he looked around for the boy with the over-large hat, meaning to point him out to Seridor. Once upon a time, when they first took to the roads, he and the elvaan had probably both been equally conspicuous. But the kid had finally disappeared. Aeonus shrugged and forgot about him.


End file.
